


Dark Days

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Depression, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Mycroft suffers from depression. Greg does what he can.





	Dark Days

Greg let himself in to Mycroft’s place. Most of the lights were off and the place was dim despite the brightness outside. He could hear the television and frowned. Not generally the best sign when Mycroft was watching telly. He walked into the kitchen and put down the bag of groceries, getting to work at making something simple and healthy, knowing already that if the fridge wasn’t empty, it would be peppered with take away of dubious age and quality.

Putting on the kettle, Greg made up two plates and carried them into the living room. Mycroft was curled up on the sofa, stocking feet tucked underneath him, shirt partially unbuttoned and tie loose as he watched one of his old movies. He accepted the plate from Greg and a kiss to the forehead.

Greg put down his own plate on the coffee table and went to make Mycroft his tea. He brought it to him and settled down next to him on the sofa. Mycroft absently ate most of his food before putting it down on the table and shifting to lean against Greg. Greg kissed the top of his head again and finished his own food before putting it down and wrapping an arm around Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed. “I’d apologize, but you told me not to.”

“Having a bad day isn’t anything you need to apologize for.” Greg hugged him. “You take your meds?”

Mycroft nodded. “It’s just a bad spell.”

“Do you need anything else from me?” asked Greg.

Mycroft shook his head and snuggled a little closer. Greg leaned back and kept an arm around him.

Greg and Mycroft had been dating for a month and a half when Greg had stumbled across Mycroft’s antidepressant in an attempt to locate some paracetamol. He’d been surprised, but had carefully put it back where he’d found it. Mycroft had always been cooly in control, Greg had no idea there was anything else going on with him.

Of course Mycroft had noticed they were moved. That had led to a row where Mycroft accused Greg of digging through his medicine cabinet on purpose. Greg had pointed out his only purpose had been he had a headache. Mycroft had left and for a day or so Greg was worried that he’d ruined the best thing he’d had.

Then Mycroft had picked him up and carefully explained that he was generally fine, but that depression ran in the family and it was something he’d been dealing with for most of his life. Perhaps he’d been expecting rejection, showing Greg this chink in his armor, but Greg had simply taken his hand and apologized for being in his medicine cabinet in the first place.

It was almost a year later now. Greg had seen a few bad spells, had learned the signs and what his partner needed when things got dark. Mycroft was very good at pretending, and outside these walls most would never know. Greg considered it a privilege to be able to be here for him, to see Mycroft when he was this vulnerable, to be someone his lover could lean on.

They still had fights from time to time, but Greg could be patient when he needed to be. Mycroft knew how to wound with words when the sadness turned to anger. There had been a couple times when Greg had stayed away for a few hours, but he always came back and Mycroft was always more than contrite. It wasn’t always easy, but Greg knew that Mycroft loved him and that he hated the angry outbursts even more than Greg did.

Fortunately a change in medications had helped and Mycroft’s mood was more even of late. This bad spell wasn’t the worst Greg had seen and he hoped that the darkness wouldn’t be so deep and wide.

The movie ended and Mycroft turned off the telly with a sigh. “You take a shower today?” asked Greg, knowing the answer.

Mycroft shook his head.

“Come on, I’ll join you.” Greg helped him to his feet and stole a proper kiss along with his tie.

Mycroft gave him a slight smile and allowed himself to be led upstairs and into the bathroom. “I don’t know why you put up with me,” he said quietly as Greg helped him undress.

Greg cupped his cheek. “I love you, Mycroft.”

Mycroft studied his face, then leaned in and kissed Greg gently.

Greg kissed him back, then stepped away to get the shower going.

“I love you too,” murmured Mycroft, watching him.

Greg gave him a smile and took his hand, guiding him under the spray before shucking his own clothes and joining him. He gently washed Mycroft, humming something tunelessly as he worked. 

Mycroft kept his eyes closed, relaxing under the hot water and Greg’s touch.

“There you go,” Greg kissed the back of Mycroft’s neck. “Straight to bed?”

“Please,” said Mycroft, even though they both knew he probably wouldn’t fall asleep for a while yet.

Greg got Mycroft towelled off and into a comfortable pair of pajamas. He made sure there was water by his side of the bed, along with a book and Mycroft’s reading glasses. “I’m just going to do the dishes. I’ll be right back.”

Mycroft nodded and reached for the book. “Thank you.”

Greg smiled and slipped out of the room.

**

In the small hours Mycroft woke from restless sleep. He sighed and sat up carefully, not wanting to wake the man beside him. He looked down at him in the darkness, sleep smoothing the lines of his face.

Mycroft often wondered why Greg stayed, why he put up with him when so many had not. Why he tolerated the dark moods and the silences. But he did. Reaching out, Mycroft picked up his hand and held it, feeling his strength, wishing he could be more.

“Love you, My,” Greg mumbled.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” Mycroft dropped his hand.

“S’okay.” Greg pulled him down and kissed him tenderly.

Mycroft sighed into the kiss, any protest smothered by the warmth in his heart. Greg didn’t want him to be perfect. He wanted Mycroft just as he was, no matter how dark the day.

**Author's Note:**

> My depression has been kicking my ass the last month or so, so I wrote this


End file.
